Tolkien Was Wrong About This One
by Boudicca1
Summary: The famed J.R.R. Tolkien once cautioned against meddling in the affairs of wizards, claiming that they are "subtle and quick to anger". Well. He's been wrong before. Alternately: In Which Merlin Gets a Summons, Magic is Discussed, and Uther Weeps in Despair for the Future of Camelot. Also on AO3.


Merlin surveyed the walls of the corridor, dragging his eyes along every bit of brick and stone he could find, and looked for anything noteworthy. He wasn't picky. He'd be fine with a misaligned brick, or some leaky sealant. Hell, he'd even take a slightly interesting crack. Anything to take his mind off of what was about to happen.

When George had approached Arthur's quarters after dinner, Merlin assumed he was there to inform Arthur of some official business, a demand from his father, or some other such thing. Well, he had technically been correct. But the steward had instead addressed Merlin when relaying Uther's "request". It was phrased in such a way that made it very clear that it was a request in name only.

Not that any directive aimed at a servant from the king of Camelot could be anything less than a demand, but still. This one was especially pointed.

So Merlin had headed off to Uther's personal quarters. And to what was quite possibly his doom.

.-.. .. -. . -... .-. . .- -.-

As his eyes alighted upon a particular patch of cobblestone, Merlin knew that he was out of time. His eyes moved, independent of his own volition, up to the door in front of him. It was the heavy mahogany one that belonged to the entrance of the king's chambers.

Almost paralyzed with trepidation, Merlin raised his arm, absently noting that his hand was already conveniently clenched into a fist, and knocked.

For a heartbeat, there was no reply, and he was able to imagine that this was all a flight of fancy; that Uther was in fact absent from his chambers and not expecting Merlin at all. But alas, he soon heard a response, as the king bid him open the door.

Throat clenching tight with panic, Merlin entered, bowed, and managed to stutter a greeting.

"Your Majesty."

Before he could straighten up, Uther waved a hand in dismissal.

"Yes, yes, I know, you're honoured to be summoned, blah blah, blah. Let's dispense with the formalities, shall we? And do close the door behind you." With this, he burst out of his seat, striding past Merlin to reach the carafe of mead sitting on his mantle, which he then proceeded to toss back in its entirety.

Pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, he turned back towards the nervous servant.

"It has come to my attention that my son is an idiot."

Merlin stared. He had no idea where this was going, but there was no possible response he could give to that statement without risking execution at the least.

Having received no encouragement from his audience (not that he was seeking any input from that quarter in the first place), Uther continued.

"My son is an idiot," he reiterated, "because apparently he hasn't realised that you have magic."

Merlin continued staring, though this time it was with significantly more panic.

Still, Uther ignored him, instead pressing on.

"I wasn't even aware of this until earlier this morning—that's why I felt the need to summon you—" here, he gestured toward Merlin, making eye contact with him for the first time since the servant had entered the room.

Upon seeing the stricken gaze of the young man in front of him, Uther broke off. Normally he wouldn't care about the wellbeing of a commoner, but the expression of shock on Merlin's face indicated something was wrong enough that he should be alerted.

"What? What is it?" He inquired roughly.

All he got in response was Merlin gaping like a goldfish, his mouth opening and closing several times without any sound escaping.

Patience thinning, he snapped. "Listen to me, you foolish boy! I haven't the time for your idiotic tendencies, so if there's a problem, spit it out!"

Merlin remained silent for several more moments, but before Uther could completely explode from irritation, he spoke.

"You... you know about the magic?"

Normally, in the face of such an obvious question, Uther would've lambasted whoever asked such a thing, but for once, his underused sense of tact kicked in and he surveyed the boy before answering. The servant in question had gone pasty white, and his lips were trembling.

Oh dear. Perhaps Uther had been too quick to assume that Merlin had been aware of Uther's knowledge of his magic.

His suspicion was confirmed when the boy opposite him managed to speak again, although it was so faint, Uther was of half a mind to tell him that he shouldn't have bothered in the first place.

"How did you know I had magic?" he whispered, fear obvious in his eyes.

Uther stared at him in disbelief.

Honestly, given all of the evidence piling up, how could he have _not_ known?

.-.. .. -. . -... .-. . .- -.-

He'd heard word that Gaius was going to be getting a new apprentice, but he hadn't known that the boy had already arrived until he'd heard Arthur complaining about him. Apparently, the boy had stumbled his way onto the training field while Arthur was practising.

And then they'd apparently had a brawl in the marketplace, one from which the boy had escaped with no injuries, and Arthur with only superficial bruises. Which was interesting when one factored in the eyewitness accounts of Arthur being armed with a mace (a weapon with which he was rather proficient, to put it mildly), and Gaius' apprentice without so much as a needle.

It was at that point that the first clouds of suspicion began to plague his mind. Still, he reasoned. It's not as if a sorcerer would willingly submit to being attacked by his son without lethal retribution, let alone being thrown in the dungeons for it. How stupid would a sorcerer have to be to get a prime opportunity to kill the heir to the throne, and instead pass it up for some mutually assured humiliation and a night in the dungeons?

No, Uther reasoned. This boy was just absurdly lucky and had caught Arthur on an off day. Well, either that or Arthur had realised that the marketplace stalls were in fact the sole livelihood of many of Camelot's citizens, that a full-on brawl would have destroyed many of his people's prospects, and he'd decided that facing humiliation for not being to incapacitate a young rapscallion was a better fulfillment of his duties to the people of Camelot than proving his prowess as a warrior.

Yep, Uther concluded. The boy had been lucky.

.-.. .. -. . -... .-. . .- -.-

The goblets glittered, glancing golden candlelight light onto the platters that spread across the tables, which were nearly creaking under the weight of the food they bore. Glazed hams and pheasants glistened among the trays of vegetables and breads, all arranged to compliment the boars' heads and stags that were lain out for consumption.

Nobles were clad in soft velvets and silks, pearls and gems gleaming on bosoms, ears, and dresses as the members of the court boasted their finest vestments, not a scrap of fabric bare of some brocade or embroidery. They imbibed heavily; the only cups that weren't filled to the brim with rich wines and meads were the ones that had yet to be refilled by the host of servants who tended the nobles at every elbow.

As the guests feasted—the more abstemious among them merely sipping at their drinks, with others gorging like it was going out of style—they awaited the promised performance. Lady Helen, the most famed voice in all the five kingdoms was about to serenade them.

All in all, Uther considered, it wasn't too bad of a party. True, he'd wished that Lady Aderyn hadn't worn her gown that was embroidered with toucans, but he supposed she was proud of the measure she'd passed that declared them the national bird of Camelot (it was likely intended as a slap in the face to Lord Methiant, who'd heavily advocated for the quetzal), but it was only to be expected. The hat, however, he thought, was a tad excessive.

Still, it was a fair showing. And, Uther noticed, it was about to get better. For Lady Helen had just entered through the broad double doors at the other end of the hall.

As she passed through the threshold, the light dimmed as servants strategically blew out some candles. Then, to Uther's dismay, said lights continued dimming. Just how many candles were being extinguished? The event planner had assured him that light would be optimal for the performance. Just as he began to plan either a sternly worded letter or an execution, depending on his mood, all of the candles went out and cobwebs began developing on the... well, on everything. It was at this point that he realised that this was not the fault of an incompetent event planner, but rather that a sorcerer was about to try to murder him again. How droll.

As the webs developed further, creeping onto the guests of the feast, he found his eyes becoming heavy, and, despite his best attempts, could not keep them open. Just as he was beginning to drift off for good, he suddenly found he was met with less resistance and managed to force his eyes open. The light was growing stronger, and the cobwebs were disappearing. And Arthur was no longer sitting beside him.

Panic flooded his veins as he cast about, looking for his son. He was relieved when, almost immediately, he saw him sprawled on the ground with Gaius' apprentice. Now, if this had been the method Arthur chose to work through his frustration with the boy, Uther would've given them his blessing. However, considering the fact that there was a dagger in the chair where Arthur's head had been and it was the middle of a feast, it was pretty obvious that that's not what was going on.

This boy was free of cobwebs. And had been unaffected by the sleeping spell. And had apparently teleported across the room to Arthur's side somehow. Well. "Somehow" implies a degree of uncertainty. And in reality, Uther had a pretty good idea how it was done.

So. This boy was a sorcerer. And not just any sorcerer; one that decided to come into the heart of Camelot and apprenticed himself to Gaius, the one man that anyone old enough to remember the purge knew had magic. And then proceeded to save the life of the prince of Camelot (and quite possibly Uther's own, as well).

No, this wasn't any old sorcerer. This was the most idiotic, incompetent sorcerer he'd ever known.

Well, nothing for it, Uther decided. Time for Arthur to get a new manservant.

.-.. .. -. . -... .-. . .- -.-

"So you've known this whole time?"

Merlin could barely believe it. He'd come in here expecting to be executed, only to find out that he needn't have worried at all. He might have been annoyed at that, if he weren't busy feeling too relieved to think. He felt his knees wobble beneath him, and collapsed heavily into a convenient chair.

Uther raised an eyebrow at that. Perhaps Merlin had just sat in his favourite chair or something, but the servant was too busy trembling in relief to muster the energy to care about that.

He breathed out shakily, bracing his hands on his knees, before once again returning his attention to the king, who looked put out at having been ignored for the few moments it took for Merlin to collect himself.

"And you told Arthur?"

Evidently deciding to forgive Merlin's overfamiliarity, Uther responded, looking perturbed.

"Yes. And to be honest, I was not quite expecting his reaction."

.-.. .. -. . -... .-. . .- -.-

Uther raised an eyebrow at his son, simultaneously admiring his lung capacity and worrying at what had caused his sudden laughter. Luckily, Arthur's guffawing soon died down, and he looked back at his father, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Father, I don't think I've heard you tell a joke in years!" he exclaimed, between gasps for breath.

"You still haven't," Uther replied. "I'm becoming rather concerned for you, Arthur, if such a simple question causes you to succumb to a fit of cachinnations. And I am still awaiting an answer," he reminded.

His son's delight had somewhat worn down, though traces of the gleeful mirth that had followed Uther's query remained.

"Really, father, as if asking me to let my manservant know that he should be more subtle with his magic could be anything other than a jest!"

"Yes, I'm not quite sure how you came to that conclusion, given that I was entirely serious when I made my request," Uther reiterated.

Now the mirth truly was receding from his son's face, as traces of seriousness crept in. "All right, it was funny the first time, but implying that Merlin has magic is a dangerous joke, even from you, father. What if someone overheard and thought you actually meant it?"

Now Uther's brow furrowed with confusion. "What do you mean, 'as if' I actually meant it? I'm entirely serious right now!"

Arthur's expression had turned stormy. "How can you continue to joke about such a thing? Implying that Merlin has magic could lead to harsh retribution for him, especially when it's a remark made by the king! Have you no sense of tact?" With this, Arthur stormed out of the room, slamming the doors behind him, leaving one very puzzled ruler behind.

.-.. .. -. . -... .-. . .- -.-

"It was at this point," Uther explained, "that I resolved to contact you, since it seemed that my son was far more unobservant than I'd ever believed, and as such, continuing to converse with him would serve no further purpose."

Here, he broke off, surveying the terrified servant in front of him, who had yet to interject or offer his own opinion.

"Then again," he continued, "I thought that you'd noticed his obliviousness and decided that, due to his lack of tact, it was better he went on unaware of your magic. Not that you yourself were as unobservant as he.

"Indeed, I think it best that my son remain in the dark regarding your... abilities, as I'm sure you agree."

He looked to the boy in front of him for input, and, after a few moments received a brief, jerky nod of agreement,

Pleased with himself, he dismissed the servant, who bolted out of the room faster than Uther'd ever seen anyone do before.

Shaking his head in mild disbelief, he returned to the carafe of mead of which he'd partaken earlier.

**A/N**

I'm not too satisfied with the title, but it was this or Astonishingly Asinine Assumptions, so take your pick. (or comment with something. please for the love of god, comment with something. anything)

Also let's pretend that merlin had to deliver uther medicine or something so he know what he looks like in time for the feast


End file.
